


We'll Always Have St. Barts

by BookishTea



Series: Molliarty [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Casablanca References, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Drama & Romance, Dreams, Emotional, F/M, Film Noir, Goodbyes, I Made Myself Cry, Oneshot, Swearing, Unresolved Tension, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 09:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14210133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: "I wish I didn't love you so much."





	We'll Always Have St. Barts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, obviously this fic was inspired by Casablanca, mainly that famous ending scene. I played around with the scenes and dialogue, so it isn't completely accurate, but whatever. I felt some of the phrasing had to be changed to match Jim's personality. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, and we'll suffer together like always. xoxo
> 
> You know the drill, the cover was made by the wonderful [whyimmathere](http://whyimmathere.tumblr.com/).

                                                                  

 

It had been a long shift at the morgue, a work day filled with a seemingly endless amount of paperwork and lack luster corpses. Though admittedly anything was better than doing nothing, that tended to have Molly thinking of the past and the future. Never a good combination. She was getting 'old', as her mother had wonderfully put it, and still no boyfriend or the prospect of a husband in sight. The only companion she had was her cat, and best friend Meena, who was far too busy planning her own wedding. As much as she loved her friend, she wasn't looking forward to awkwardly being paired with the 'Best Man' - whom she had met only once, and never wanted to see again.

He had sneezed in her face, which spoke volumes of how their future forced meetings were going to go.  

Sighing to herself, Molly closed the curtains and slipped out of her work clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin to be washed. Putting on an oversized t-shirt over her underwear, she placed a packet of popcorn in the microwave, going through her movie collection as it nosily popped. Fingers brushing over the Disney DVDs, she settled on Casablanca. The classic was an absolute favourite of her's, and she needed a good cry.

Opening the case, she slipped the disc in the player and turned the TV on. It sounded like the popcorn had finished, so she padded to the kitchen, taking the bulging packet from the microwave and carefully poured it into a large glass bowl. Buttery goodness filling the room with its heady scent, she also grabbed an ice cold water and set it on the coffee table in the living room. 

Plopping down to the sofa, she leaned to the side, dragging a knitted blanket over her lap as she grabbed the remote. Hitting play, she leaned back, smiling when Toby jumped to her side. Absently petting him, she began to watch as the title card filled the screen, loud dramatic music startling her. Quickly she pressed the volume button, lowering it.

 

She was nearing the end of the film, bowl empty aside for a few kernels. Toby hadn't made it long, nose pressed into her ribs as his body moved subtly with his breathing. She wasn't sure how long she was going to last either, eyes periodically drifting shut before she forced them back open again. With one last glimpse of the screen, Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman's characters on the run from the police, she finally fell asleep.

* * *

 

Molly was absolutely terrified, shoes clacking against the road as she quickly exited from the car. She had to ignore that terror, to swallow it down and be brave now. Anything less and those she loved would be dead. She wet her lips, gaze lifting from the ground to stare at the back of her companion, his hand firmly gripping her arm as he dragged her forward. The tightness of the hold was hurting her, though she knew it wasn't intentional. For now she ignored it, thinking of all the good times they would have together once they were free. A lifetime of endless possibilities, of happiness. 

The plane was already waiting for them, engine roaring as its propellers spun, churning the fog that blanketed the airport. Molly wanted to blame the sweat on her brow on the Moroccan heat, but she knew it was because of how nervous she was. This was a big step, for the both of them. After this there was no going back, the blissful ignorance was forever drained from their lives - but she didn't care about that, not when he would be staying by her side. Jim came to a halt, slightly turning towards her. She caught sight of the same anxiety reflected in his eyes, but he pushed it back down with a grimace. He'd done so much for her, despite how carelessly she broke his heart. She reached a trembling hand to his face, chest panging when he caught it, thumb brushing over the skin.

He brought it to his mouth, the stubble he didn't have time to shave ticklish as he kissed her - almost as if it were as natural as breathing. Which Molly promptly forgot how to. Returning back to reality, he dropped her hand like he remembered something, had to correct himself. But this lack of touch didn't last long, fingers soon on her waist as he spoke to one of his men. 

"I need you to go with Mr. Lestrade, take care of his luggage."

The police captain gave a nod, "Certainty, Moriarty. Anything you say."  He strolled over to an attendant, mumbling the orders of "Find Mr. Lestrade's luggage and put it on the plane." He was saluted with a "Yes, Sir!" As this exchange went on Jim spared her another glance, making sure she was still with him. The heavens shook as lightning streaked across the clouds, and thunder swiftly followed. The rain was coming down in sheets, and if it were any other day they wouldn't risk the flight. They didn't have the luxury, surely their enemies were hot on their heels. 

The attendant ushered Greg from the car, saying "This way." He took a sparing look at Molly, and then followed the other man, his folders held to his chest. She momentarily watched as he disappeared into the swirling darkness, turning to see Jim talking to the police captain again. He was acting as if this was all so casual, handing an envelope over, but the stiffness of his shoulders and the furrow of his brows said otherwise. This was a man with a mission to complete, even if the task was hard. "You fill in the names, that'll make it more official."

"You think of everything, don't you?"

Molly's heart plummeted when Jim said, "And the names are Mr. and Mrs. Greg Lestrade." She immediately reached out to him, hand on his elbow.

"But," she shakily breathed in. "Why my name, Jim?"

He grabbed her shoulders, stepping in close as he stared into her eyes. "Because you're getting on that plane."

"I... I don't understand. What about you?"

Jim's eyes strayed away from her face to the sopping landscape, admitting "I'm staying here until the plane get's safely away."

"No, Jim!" Her hands clamped onto his arms, mind frantically searching for a way to change this. "N-no, I.." She bit her bottom lip. "What has happened to you? Last night we-"

" _Last night?"_   Jim spat out, grip tightening. "We said a great many of things, you said I was to do the thinking for the both us. Well I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing. You're getting on that plane with Lestrade where you belong."

"But Jim! No, I-" She shook his hands off of her, panic rising. After everything they'd done together, all of the pain she thought was finally mended. Didn't he know how much she cared for him? How she cherished those lazy mornings together, alone in their own world. So what if he dealt with the dark part of society? That didn't stop her from lov-

"You've got to listen to me." Jim leaned in close, breath from his recent cigarette and whiskey wafting over her. "Do you have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten we'd both wind up rotting in prison or in the ground. Isn't that true, captain?" 

The moustached man peered up, finished with his signing. "I'm afraid Major Anderson would insist."

Realization of Jim's intent dawned on her, "You're saying this only to make me go." He gave a mirthless bark of laughter.

"I'm saying it because it's true."

"I don't believe that."

Jim shook his head, frustration obvious. He didn't have time for this, she needed to get to safety before they arrived. "We both know you belong with Lestrade. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it."

"No" she said, voice cracking.

The corner of Jim's lips tugged up, smiling tiredly. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life." It felt like he was driving a knife into her heart, uncaring that it was tearing her apart. Her bottom lip started to quiver, eyes prickling but she tried to put on a brave face. 

"But... but what about _us?_ Didn't that _mean_ anything?"

At that moment Jim looked wrecked, all of the confidence he typically had slipped away. He sighed heavily, taking his hat off to drag his fingers through his slicked hair. It didn't matter that the rain was pelleting his face, getting rid of the tonic. He put it back on, expression hard and his eyes... God, he looked  _feral._ "We'll always have St. Barts. At first we didn't have it, we'd lost it, until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night."

Molly's breath is came out in shaky puffs, tears now rolling down her cheeks freely. He knows her so well, inside and out. "I said I would never leave you."

"And you never will." He brushed a trail away, touch lingering on her cheek. "But I've got a job to do, too. Where you can't follow. What I've got to do you can't be any apart of. Molly, I'm not good at being noble... But, someday you'll understand this." She lowered her head, not wanting him to see the heartbreak so plainly. He grabbed her chin, tilting it up "Now..."  She sniffed, searching his dark eyes. The happy ending she wanted wasn't in there. "Here's looking at you, Molls."

He pulled her forward, kissing her until Molly's legs went weak. This precious moment only happened for a second, the sound of sirens racing towards them. Reluctantly they pulled away, catching sight of Anderson's car hurdling towards the airport. Her head snapped back to Jim, still unsure as Greg called out to her by the plane. Jim stepped back, hoarsely saying "Go."

"G-goodbye, Jim." Soul feeling as though it was split down the middle, she hurried to cross the stretch to the airplane. She felt his heated gaze on her back, chasing after her even when she boarded it. Taking a seat inside next to Greg, she couldn't help but peer out of a window. The rain had stopped, and now he stood there, lighting a cigarette as the police descended upon him.

* * *

 

When Molly awoke the credit music was playing, eyes sticky from her tears. Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes, sniffling. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" She couldn't believe she had a dream about Jim Moriarty of all people.

If she were to give herself some slack, she could argue it was because the last time she'd seen this movie it'd been with the then sane and dorky boyfriend. Well, not really a boyfriend was he? Just some bloke she had a couple of dates with, someone her cat liked, who listened to her rant about bad days...

Molly sighed, turning the TV and DVD player off. The sensation of his lips still on her's, she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Goodbye, Jim."

 


End file.
